Hounslow Honeytrap
"Airport security officer Adanna thinks she's caught a smuggler—but the thick Cameroonian businesswoman has diplomatic immunity and a proposition that's impossible to refuse."
The scanner flagged something in the woman's bag.
"Step aside please, ma'am."
The thick Cameroonian obeyed with a smile that said she wasn't worried.
Private screening room. Adanna opened the bag.
"Diplomatic immunity," the woman said, showing her passport. "Sandrine Mbeki. Cultural attaché."
"I still need to inspect—"
"Of course you do." That smile again. "Inspect whatever you like."
The bag contained nothing illicit.
The woman contained other dangers entirely.
"You're very thorough," Sandrine observed as Adanna searched. "I appreciate thoroughness."
"It's my job."
"Is it your job to stare at my body while you search?"
Adanna's face heated. "I wasn't—"
"You were. I don't mind." Sandrine leaned close. "I was staring too."
"This is inappropriate."
"I'm a diplomat. I define appropriate." Sandrine's hand found Adanna's wrist. "Come to my hotel tonight. Let me thank you for your professionalism."
"I could lose my job."
"No one would know. Diplomatic discretion is my specialty."
Every training told Adanna to refuse.
She didn't.
The hotel room near Heathrow was luxurious.
Sandrine greeted her in a silk robe that hid nothing of her thick curves.
"I've been thinking about you all day," Sandrine admitted. "Those strong hands. That serious face. I wondered what you look like when you lose control."
"I don't lose control."
"Tonight you will."
Sandrine kissed like she negotiated—confident, skilled, leaving no room for argument.
She undressed Adanna with practiced hands, admiring each reveal.
"Beautiful. Strong. Just what I hoped."
"What do you want from me?"
"Everything. Give me everything."
Adanna gave her everything.
On the hotel bed, against the window with planes landing in the distance, in the shower with diplomatic shampoo.
Sandrine took and took and gave back twice as much.
"I travel through Heathrow monthly," she mentioned afterwards. "Always select the same line. If you're working..."
"I can arrange that."
"Then I'll see you next month." A final kiss. "And every month after."
The arrangement continued for years.
Monthly flights. Monthly encounters. A diplomat and her security officer playing games that neither could acknowledge.
"We should stop," Adanna said once.
"We should." Sandrine pulled her close. "Will we?"
"No."
"Good."
Hounslow's airport had never seen such dedicated screening procedures.
Or such satisfied customers.